


The Entanglement of Circuits

by radiole



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Ah I’m a sinner, Alan has more gray hairs, Angst, Baby Things, Beck Mara and Zed are absolute squad goals, Beck and Paige are also goals, Beck gives his parents hell, Beck is Tron’s biological son, Beck is a good baby, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Fluff, Don’t Judge Me, Dreams are Strange, Fluff, I think I was on crack when writing this, I wanted an excuse to write Beck as his biological child, IM FUCKING SCREAMING, Ill update these tags at some point, Jesus why am I posting this, M/M, Mpreg, Other, Quorra is like an excited puppy, Sam is stressed - Freeform, THIS IS SELF-INDULGENT, The whole gang is gonna make an appearance, This started off as a weird ass dream I had over a year ago, Tron is grumpy, User things, Weird Program Biology, Why did I write this part 2, all the things, family things, jesus take the wheel, please don’t judge me, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiole/pseuds/radiole
Summary: Experiment gone wrong AU! Kinda.Sam and Tron get a little experimental. The consequences are both a blessing, a curse, and another reason for Alan to grow more gray hairs on his head.
Relationships: Alan Bradley & Tron, Beck & Tron (Tron), Sam Flynn & Alan Bradley, Sam Flynn & Quorra, Sam Flynn & Quorra & Tron, Sam Flynn & Tron, Sam Flynn/Tron
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Entanglement of Circuits

**Author's Note:**

> HEAR ME OUT!! 
> 
> I had a dream about this about a year ago after rediscovering my love for the TRON franchise and woke up practically wheezing. I told myself I had to write it NOT post it but here I am posting it anyway. God, we love self-torture. 
> 
> Basically, somehow, Tron ends up knocked up by good ol’ Sam Flynn, that baby is Beck from Uprising, and Quorra is the best aunt there is. Mara, Zed, and Paige join the mix when he’s a teen but both user and security program gotta struggle to raise their somewhat rebellious son between the user world and the wonders of the Grid. 
> 
> This is purely self-indulgent on my part and Ik I’m going to get judged hardcore for this. I doubt this is going to be a chaptered story but we’ll see. Right now, I just needed my crack posted somewhere so here’s AO3!

Something was wrong. 

He could easily feel it coursing through his code. He could peg it off as his systems being buggy but even if they were to act awry, his subsystems would instantly launch recovery protocols to remedy the issue. 

If he was on the Grid, that is.

Being in the user world rendered his normal subroutines useless. Well, not useless but different than the way they operate on the Grid. His subroutines translated into normal bodily functions in the user world, which was both efficient and concerning at times, especially when he wasn’t exactly feeling the best. All was quiet, a little too quiet to satisfy the security program. Outside of Quorra’s usual antics (the ISO was currently trying to brew tea for him), things were relatively quiet.

His render seemed fine, although it was on the paler side, something Sam picked up on during his last visit to the user world. 

“ _Hey, Tron?”_

_The security monitor looked up from his novel into the concerned eyes of his lover._

_“Yes?”_

_“You’re looking kinda pale there, man.” Sam started. He looked at the program and frowned._

_His normally groomed hair was all over the place (it was really fucking cute but Sam wasn’t about to say that aloud) and his gray eyes just screamed exhaustion. There was a flush on his face that contrasted heavily against his sickly pale skin._

_God, he looked green. Programs don’t turn green. At most, they become violet or pink when they’re blushing but other than that, their skin is normal other than the somewhat gray tint to it._

_A whole new wave of anxiety washed over the user. Sam pushed himself away from the dining room table, completely abandoning his laptop and briskly walking over to his lover, who simply stared up at him._

_“Yes?” Tron asked._

_Sam bent down a little and reached his hand out, firmly pressing his palm against the program’s forehead. Shit, he was practically burning._

_“Dude, you’re way too hot.”_

_“Really? I feel cold.”_

_“Cold?”_

_The security monitor nodded, cuddling further into the throw blanket wrapped around his body. Truthfully, he felt unwell. An unpleasant feeling settled in his stomach. He knew it wasn’t hunger (it was a lot more painful than what he was currently feeling and learned that the hard way) but he didn’t have enough information about the user body to properly identify it._

_“How do you feel? Any pain? Nausea? Hungry?” Sam asked, moving his hand to rest on his cheek, his thumb gently caressing his clammy skin._

_Tron felt the flush on his face deepen and the look of concern on Sam’s become more apparent. He instinctively nuzzled into the user’s touch._

_“What is ‘nausea’, Sam?”_

_“Uh, how do I put this?” The user whispered. “It’s basically a sickness you feel in your stomach. It’s this involuntary urge to vomit your guts out and makes you not wanna eat.”_

_That must be the strange feeling._

_“Why? Do you feel nauseous?” Sam asked, sitting beside him, gently plucking the book from his hands and placing it down on the coffee table. If he wasn’t practically staring down the program in question, he would’ve missed the way his hands settled on his stomach._

_“Yes.”_

_“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”_

_Tron understood what that meant surprisingly. He’s seen it for himself, specifically when Sam and Quorra decided it’d be a good idea to “have a fun night on the town” and get “shitfaced” in celebration of Alan-One becoming ENCOM’s official chairman. The two came back to the apartment in one piece. Turns out, Sam was only tipsy but Quorra was completely drunk, slurring her words and barely able to keep herself upright._

Long story short, the ISO vomited not long after coming back and both security program and user got disgusted at the sight but had to help the poor girl. 

No, Tron didn’t necessarily feel like that was going to happen but the queasiness was steadily increasing, convincing him that he just might. 

Tron felt the same feeling of nausea plaguing his stomach. He could barely focus on the words in front of him as the sickness increased. 

“Tron? Are you ok?” Quorra asked with the teabag pinched between her fingers haphazardly hanging above the cup of freshly boiled water. 

Truthfully, no, but thank you for asking. Is what he wanted to say but the feeling of something traveling up his throat (he’s pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen) forced him to snap his mouth tightly shut before he could get the words out. 

And then things happened a little too quickly for him to process.

The next thing he knew, the security monitor shot up from his chair and ran past the ISO in a blur, the book he was reading crumpling to the floor. 

“Tron, what’s going on—”

She got her answer the minute she heard the older program gagging from the other side of the apartment. Worried, the ISO ran after him, nearly tripping in the process but managed to catch herself, and found the poor security program leaning against the toilet, his head ducked into the bowl and relentlessly vomiting straight into it as he held onto it tightly. 

He was hunched over and expelling the contents of his stomach into the open toilet bowl, which wasn’t much. Nausea prevented him from eating much of anything but Quorra did force him to snack on the saltine crackers Sam stored in the cabinet. But it seemed the effort to get him to eat was in vain. He would’ve been surprised at how fast Quorra appeared at his side but he was too hyper-aware of the thick liquid leaving his body.

Tron felt a gentle hand on his back rubbing soothing circles and whisperings of “you’ll be ok” and “it’s alright, let it out”. The same hand brushed the fringe away from his face and pushed it behind his ear, then resumed the caressing of his back. 

It took another few seconds for him to finally stop (much to the dismay of both programs—it definitely felt longer than a few seconds) but once he did, Tron nearly collapsed headfirst into the toilet. Quorra caught him just before that gross accident could occur and held him against her chest. 

His eyes were half-lidded, his chocolate hair a fine mess on his head, sweat pooling on his forehead, and desperate pants of air entering his lungs. Long story short; the guy looked absolutely miserable. 

“Users, Tron. You scared me!” Quorra said, worry lacing her voice. Her eyebrows were knitted together. “Are you alright? What happened? Do you need me to call Alan? Or _Sam_?”

Hearing the son of Flynn’s name caused the security monitor to shoot up (very nearly knocking the ISO square in the chin) and look her in the eye. Sickness and any signs of fatigue be damned.

“No!” He exclaimed then instantly came to regret it when he grew dizzy and fell back against his younger companion. 

An annoyed sigh left his lips.

“Notifying either user would just be a disturbance to them. They’re both busy at work.” Tron sighed. “I don’t want to bother them with this.”

“Tron,” Quorra started, very nearly rolling her eyes. “Sam and Alan would drop anything and everything if they knew you were sick. Besides, Sam loathes board meetings anyway and Alan could use a break. They put you above anything else.” 

“They do the same for you.”

“Oh, I know. But I’m not the one who spilled their guts into the toilet.” Quorra giggled. Tron’s glare was half-hearted, disturbed entirely by the fatigue on his face but it certainly didn’t stop him from scowling at her. 

It caused the ISO’s laughter to increase. 

“Stop glaring at me! You know I’m right.” Quorra moved the somewhat limp program so he was sitting upright with his back flush against her. 

He made a sound of protest (sounded a lot like “I can sit up myself, program”) but she ignored it as she reached over and flushed the toilet and closed the lid. In one swift movement, the ISO stood up on her two feet and held Tron in a bridal style carry, which did nothing to cease the security monitor’s hard glare directed at her. 

“Put me down.” He grumbled.

“Let me think about it, uh, **_no_**.” 

“I’m capable of standing and maneuvering on my own. Alan-One programmed me to be resilient. Now put me down, program.” 

Oh, it was the " _program"_ that almost caused Quorra to follow the request (more like demand—man, he was grumpy). It took every fiber of her being to ignore it and walk out of the bathroom with the older program still in her hold. 

She dismissed his half-hearted protests as she walked across the living room, bent down, and gently settled Tron back into the chair he was in previously. She even went as far as situating the blanket around his shoulders and handing him the book he practically threw on the floor from his dash to the bathroom. 

Pleased with her work, she grinned down at him.

“See? It’s not so bad letting somebody take care of you.”

“I didn’t need it, Quorra.” Tron sighed, his head turned to hide the small blush staining his cheeks. “But I appreciate it regardless.” 

The ISO beamed. “Anytime! Though, there is one thing that’s bothering me about all of this.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“Don’t you find it strange? That all of sudden you’re suddenly sick? You didn’t have any symptoms before today, at least I don’t think you did.” Quorra said thoughtfully.

“I have been experiencing nausea for the last few cycles.” Tron sighed. “Weeks.” He corrected himself. 

“And it’s just now getting _this_ bad?” She got a nod from the older program. 

“Weird.” Crossing her arms over her chest, a mischievous smile appeared on her face. “If you were a girl, I’d say you were pregnant.” 

“...Pregnant?”

Quorra nodded. “Yeah. I came across the concept when a TV show mentioned it so I looked more into it and learned it’s essentially when a young user, called a baby, grows inside of a female user for approximately 9 months. Or something like that.” She shrugged.

The ISO practically saw the gears turning in Tron’s head, clearly trying to convert the time differences between the user world and the Grid. It took him a minute but he eventually got it, nodding his head in response.

“Apparently, nausea and vomiting were some of the consistent symptoms of pregnancy that I researched. I found it a little funny that you experienced the same thing.” 

Tron blinked owlishly at her. A young user...inside of him? Was that even remotely possible? It shouldn’t be. In the user world, his body clearly expresses the male gender physically in almost the same way as it does on the Grid with some minor differences. 

On the Grid, he discovered along with Sam, that he doesn’t necessarily have all of the... _required_ reproductive organs male users do. But that knowledge didn’t stop them from...getting intimate there. In the user world, he possessed every aspect of male biology, including the hardware he’s missing on the Grid, something both he and Sam discovered during their moments of intimacy. 

Knowing this and having the basic knowledge of female users being able to carry young users inside of them, it means it’s impossible for a male user (or any program, really) to possess the same ability. He shouldn’t even be thinking of it as a possibility. 

Could it?

“You don’t really think you’re pregnant...do you?” Quorra asked, gauging the older program’s response. Though he stared back at her, he seemed...lost, even confused, and a little dazed. 

Tron sighed, curling his knees closer to his chest and pressing his head firmly against the chair cushion. He turned away from the ISO, his gray eyes trained on the ceiling.

“I don’t believe it’s possible for me to be...pregnant.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Quorra pointed out, not missing the way the other program stilled in response. 

“I mean, when it comes to the Grid, anything is possible. If you told me that you’re having a baby, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

She grinned. “I think that’s actually exciting. A baby...the child of a user and program...” The ISO trailed off dreamily. She quickly perked up when an idea popped into her head.

“We should check!!” 

Tron tilted his head to her with all of the confusion and exasperation in the world present on his face. 

“Quorra, I’m not pregnant.”

“And who said you aren’t? Tron,” Quorra looked him right in the eye. “You could be carrying a little user inside of you right now and you’d have no idea! Not unless we check!”

Judging by the glare she received from him, his answer was pure ‘no’. 

“Come on. It won’t be that bad! Besides, aren’t you a little curious, even a little excited at the thought of a baby?” The ISO said, leaning forward on her elbows, her face full of mirth. 

It wasn’t just the idea of a child that put him on edge; it was the slim-to-none possibility of pregnancy itself. Programs shouldn’t be able to carry children. They _can’t_. They’re not even able to procreate. If he bothers to entertain Quorra and her outrageous idea, what’s the chance of it turning out to be true? What are the odds that he’s actually with child? In reality, it’s none. 

He sighed deeply. 

“Getting excited over something that isn’t possible will only lead to disappointment, Quorra.” The security monitor pulled the throw blanket closer to his body, relishing in its warmth. 

“There’s no point. It's simply not possible.”

“You could be.”

“And I’m most likely not.” 

“You shouldn’t blow off the possibility altogether, Tron.”

“I’m only being rational.”

Quorra groaned, her hands pressed against her face as she pushed back the beginnings of a headache. _Users_ , he was stubborn. Now she understood what Flynn and Sam meant; the guy just wouldn’t let up.

He was like a boulder refusing to move. It was helpful in certain situations but definitely not in all of them. This happened to be one of the many moments it’s proven to be unhelpful. 

Recomposing herself, the ISO gazed at her superior, a determined gleam in her sharp blue eyes. 

“If you’re pregnant—”

“I am not.”

“—then you will let me help out when the baby comes.”

“There is no baby,” Tron said. Quorra rolled her eyes. 

“And how can you be so sure?” 

“Because I am biologically male here in the user world. It’s not possible for the male gender to carry infants for an allocated amount of time.” 

_Guess you’ve never heard of mpreg, have you?_ She thought to herself with a snort. _Users and their imaginations are **interesting**_. The ISO pushed her thoughts away and went back to fussing out the older program.

“But you’re a program before anything else! Your body can easily be coded differently, right? Besides, if the Grid is capable of creating the ISOs, creating me, then who’s to say it wouldn’t allow for a pregnancy to occur in a program in the right conditions?” Quorra reasoned, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest as she waited for a response. 

Tron stared... _hard_. Ok, maybe she was beginning to annoy him but it was for a good reason in her defense. For her older companion, she thinks, it may be a good thing, something he could look forward to. 

_Give him another reason to stay with Sam and another person to protect._ She thought.

Quorra wasn’t stupid; she knew how much he cared for Sam, how much they cared for each other. It’s not like they hide it. But every time Tron went back to the Grid, she could see the sadness in the older program’s eyes just as he says his temporary goodbye. She knew Sam was thoroughly disappointed each time, sad and a little lonely despite her presence, but he could distract himself from it for a while, even if that meant burrowing himself in work for hours on end. 

For Tron, he was stuck with a reminder of how long they’re separated for.

Time worked differently on the Grid, much faster than the user world. That was established. What’s only 3 days for Sam is perceived as 21.43 weeks to Tron, approximately 5.2 months. Quorra occasionally goes to the Grid herself, mainly to accompany Sam or on her own to visit Tron when Sam couldn’t. When she did, she always saw the same look of longing on his face, which really sucked to see. 

The ISO preferred seeing Tron happy, being his true self. He rarely did that without Sam by his side nowadays, especially after everything that happened. 

_Rinzler. Clu. Reintegration. Falling in the Sea of Simulation._

Sam worked to convince Tron to stay but there was a hesitance in those iconic gray eyes of his like the program was having an internal battle with himself. It was clear how much he wanted to be with Sam, how much he longed to stay with the user, to fulfill his directive outside of the Grid. But that’s just it; his programming wouldn’t let him leave his duty to the Grid behind, not unless he had a reason to.

If you ask her, Sam was a reason enough, the best reason there was. But sometimes, she realized, some people needed a stronger push in the right direction. 

“Quorra, I am not pregnant.” 

“None of us know that!”

“I know that.”

“Tron, you haven’t even bothered to rule out the possibility.” Quorra said. “That’s all I’m suggesting you do.”

The security monitor wanted the conversation to simply end. He found no point in it, no point in discussing such a useless topic. He wasn’t nearly as irritated with the ISO as he is with himself. Part of him is slowly believing the words from the younger program but his mind is constantly reminding him it’s purely impossible. 

They did it two different times. Sam altered his code to change him into a female for one round of intercourse and reverted it back. He said something along the lines of “you’ll get the best of both worlds.”

  
He remembers when he and the user chose to try something new, something different with their intimacy. It involved altering his code, changing it so his body could properly suit user intercourse. He must admit; he doesn’t regret letting Sam change his body to suit their needs, he didn’t mind the new ways he could please the user. He didn’t mind the variety of ways the user pleased him.

It was...exhilarating in its own right. 

But Tron knows his body hasn’t been the same since then. As easy as it is to revert back to how it was, how could he? He’s already grown used to the changes, which lead to a realization; what if the ISO was right? 

The physical modifications Sam made to his code cycles ago could’ve affected more than just the target areas, meaning it’s highly possible he could possess the necessary parts to carry and nurture a child in his body. 

He really didn’t think about that. 

_There is no way._ He thought to himself, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. The security monitor pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he picked up from Sam when the user was stressed. He then dropped his hand to his side, gazing at Quorra with a look that told the ISO ‘you better hope you’re right or I will strangle you into bits.’ She grinned at him in response. 

“Suppose we do ‘check’. How do you suggest we go about this, program?” Tron crossed his arms over his chest, his gray eyes staring down at his younger companion. 

“We could do a pregnancy test but that’s not 100% accurate. Taking you to see a doctor’s suspicious...” Quorra pondered, well, _pretended_ to. She already knew what she wanted to do. Whether the program would let her go through with it is a different story. 

“Well, there is always the Grid.” She smiled mischievously. 

If Tron was worried, maybe even a bit irritated, he didn’t show it on his face. It was definitely present in his eyes, however. 

“Come on, grumpy.” Quorra said. “It won’t take too long.”

———

It took longer than either program expected, mainly because Quorra wasn’t exactly sure of what she was looking for. 

There’s never been a pregnant program ( _wow_ , that’s weird to say) on the Grid. The ISO had a theory that if the older program was carrying, there’d be a duplicate of his base code entangled with Sam’s digital DNA hidden somewhere in a subdirectory. 

That’s not the issue. 

The issue was finding which one it could be. After 20+ years of runtime, Tron has a lot more data accumulated in his systems than she does, mostly because he’s of a different system initially. And then there was the repurposing, which put his entire being on a back burner (thus another subdirectory) for most of his runtime on the Grid.

So long story short; there was a lot to go through and see on his discs.

While she was frantically searching through his code, Tron sat surprisingly patient on the crisp white couch, amusement settled on his face with a hint of annoyance. Watching someone else go through his code, his entire being and self-awareness, was a little unsettling, especially if it’s being done by another program. But he wasn’t concerned. 

Irritated? Slightly and he feels he shouldn’t be. 

The security monitor knows the ISO is only trying to help, even if it meant proposing an irrational idea then going through with it. He knows she’s looking for something that isn’t there but he isn’t going to stop her. Despite her occasional grunts of frustration and user curses, she’s hyper-focused on what she’s doing, even if Tron knows it’s all in vain. 

“Maybe I’m looking in the wrong place.” Quorra mumbled, closing out of the subdirectory she was currently searching through and returning back to the overall display of Tron’s code. 

She watched as the bits gently oscillated around each other, weaving between the coded space of the Grid and circling just above Tron’s discs. 

Wait a minute.

“Tron,” The ISO called, snapping her head over to the patient security program, who acknowledged her with a simple hum. 

She chose her next words carefully. “Since the cycle of the...coupe...you’ve had two discs, right?” 

There was a brief look of pain on the older program’s face, an instant regret washing through her systems. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“No, it’s fine.” Tron sighed. “But, yes I have. Why do you ask?” 

Quorra knitted her eyebrows together, looking between the combined discs in her hands and the owner of said discs. She wasn’t sure why she asked either but she certainly wasn’t taking back her question.

“So whatever data’s on one disc automatically gets copied over to the other?”

“No. My data is separated between them.” 

“That makes this even easier!!” 

Tron raised an eyebrow, standing up from the couch and walking over to the ISO, who stood by the glass countertop. He stopped beside her and watched as she resumed her insistent searching. This time, he noticed, it seemed she knew what she was doing, knew exactly what she was looking for, if the smile on her face was anything to go by. 

He grew curious and, truthfully, a little nervous. 

Then, she squealed, turning to him with an astounding amount of enthusiasm. Tron had to take a slight step back, a little weary that the excited ISO might just jump on him from pure joy. She had a wide grin on her face, her blue eyes shining with a gleam the natural neon glow of the Grid couldn’t give, and she held his discs with a tight grip as she bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“I found it! I really did it!” 

She didn’t wait for him to answer. She hastily shoved his discs forward. Tron gazed at her with a mix of confusion and bewilderment (how could she have so much energy?) but then shifted his gaze down to his discs. 

Right there, in front of him, was his base code but it was slightly different. It wasn’t the ugly, jagged bright orange code of Rinzler lingering in his system. This new code was a different color; a rich, bright blue gently entangled with his own pure white in the form of a double helix. The display gradually morphed into an actual image. It was something neither program could immediately recognize.

But Quorra squinted, straining to make out what it was. 

In the center of Tron’s discs was a form, one that was tiny and curled in on itself. It looked like a half-moon, crescent-shaped, with little protrusions here and there.

_Hands. Feet. Arms. Legs. Fingers. Toes. There were even the beginnings of a nose._ Quorra quickly realized it was a fetus in its early stages, long past the clump of cells and bits of code it was once was. 

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” The ISO whispered, not wanting to break the comforting silence surrounding them. 

Yes, he did see. 

It was completely new, untouched by a single external data bit and still growing. It was less than a few cycles old. The code was developing, expanding, and changing with every millicycle that passed. And the longer he stared in awe, the more he grew to believe it. 

That new code was inside of him; it was the sign of a new life growing and maturing into something... _someone_. 

Quorra watched the older program, her own smile widening when she saw the look of absolute admiration on his face. She didn’t miss his hands unconsciously drifting to his stomach, his fingers resting against the flat surface. 

She was right. 

Admittedly, it was a joke but seeing it for her own eyes, seeing that it was true was completely different. The ISO couldn’t stop the excited grin on her face. 

“Someone’s having a baby~” She sang. 

When Tron turned to gaze at her, Quorra wasn’t ready for the look of pure fondness on his face, the gentle quirk of his lips, or the affection in his gray eyes. 

“It appears so.” He said.

“...Can I babysit?” 

“We’ll see.”

“Can I cradle and hold them? Rock them to sleep?”

“Quorra.”

“Oh! Can I buy them cute little outfits??”

“ _Quorra_.”

“I’m buying them a teddy bear!!” 

Tron sighed, hiding a small grin behind his hand. He looked at the ISO, who looked like she was going to burst from the excitement and joy running through her circuits. 

“Can they be born first?” He asked teasingly, watching as Quorra turned to him with slight bewilderment. 

Her blue eyes shined with mirth. “I’ll be happily waiting for that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, Im still fucking wheezing. I actually posted this—


End file.
